Softly, My Frail Heart Beats Brokenly
by WhispersOfStarlight
Summary: 'Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.' - Kahlil Gibran


**A.N: Okay, please don't kill me. I just got the idea for this story while listening to 'Still Love' by Holly Brooke and 'Frail' by Jars Of Clay. **

* * *

Thorin looked out over the battlefield and gave a harsh sigh. The battle was hard fought and at times it seemed like they would be overrun, but in the end the newly re-forged alliance of Elves, Men, and Dwarves overcame the seemingly un-ending hordes of Orc, Goblin, and Warg. They had won, but at the cost of so many lives.

Thorin Oakenshield and his company had succeeded at doing what all others thought impossible. They managed to drive Smaug out and reclaim Erebor and all its treasure, thanks to one person. One amazing little hobbit.

Bilbo.

The hardness left his eyes and the grim line of his lips softened into a small smile at the thought of the halfling. How the Hobbit had changed from the 'grocer' he had originally thought him to be.

How the halfling had changed them all. How he had changed him.

He was shaken from the trail his thoughts were leading him down by a voice yelling out his name.

"Thorin Oakenshield! Thank the valar I have found you! Come quick!"

He turned to face the grey wizard and whatever words he had planned to speak died as his eyes fell on the wizard's haggard appearance.

"Wizard, what has happened?"

"Make haste, my friend. Our burglar has been wounded." He replied in a grave tone.

There was an urgency to the wizard's words that filled him with ice. His eyes hardened once more as he spoke in a still voice.

"How bad?"

Gandalf shook his head, "He has been asking for you since he became conscious again."

Thorin started off in a run, but stopped and turned towards the wizard, a silent plea in his eyes.

Gandalf only said one thing, the only thing he needed to know.

"The tent of Elfking Thranduil."

With those words, the dwarfking turned and raced across the battlefield, everything and everyone a blur around him. Thoughts raced through his mind; the things he regretted saying to the hobbit and all the things he had yet to say to the halfling.

_'Wait for me.'_

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

His lungs were screaming for relief by the time he got to the tent, stopping at the site of the elven guards stationed out front. Gandalf arrived shortly after him also breathing quite heavy. He turned at the sound of running feet to see Dwalin and Bofur arrive, followed closely behind Bifur, Bombur, Dori and Nori.

Thorin nodded to them in greeting as he struggled to catch his breathe.

Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke, gasping for breath, "My friend, you ran as if an entire pack of wargs were at your heels."

Thorin shrugged off the wizard's hand and turned to Dwalin.

"Dwalin, where is Kili and Fili?" He asked.

"The lads were the ones who brought the halfling here. They were bloodied up good, but nothing serious. They'll live. Oin and Gloin are with them, getting bandaged up as well."

He breathed a little easier, knowing his nephews were still living and would be fine. The line of Durin still stands strong.

He turned sharply at the sound of the tent flap being opened.

His eyes widened as Balin and Ori emerged, accompanied by the Elfking.

Balin took one sweeping look of him from head to toe and shook his head, "My king, you look out of breath and ill at ease. Sit and rest a moment."

Thorin turned to glare at him, "I have no time for idle chatter, take me to him."

Thranduil shook his head, "You will rest first. The hobbit is stable for the moment."

The dwarfking stood his ground and glared at him. "Then I will rest at his side or not at all."

The elfking tilted his head and gazed at the dwarf for a moment, his eyes piercing in their study of him. With a nod toward the elven guards, they moved out of the way, allowing the King Under the Mountain entrance.

"Very well, Thorin, son of Thrain. Mithrandir, you may enter as well."

Thorin motioned to the other dwarves to stay outside, then he took a deep breath to steady himself and entered the tent.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Whatever he thought he had been prepared for, the sight of the hobbit wrapped from neck to torso in bandages tinted pink from his blood was not one. He looked so small and helpless, so frail as he lay sleeping in the center of the much too large cot.

Time seemed to slow as he took heavy steps forward, he noticed the paleness of his skin, the grey pallor that had settled over him.

_'It would not be long, then.' _He couldn't explain the heavy feeling in his chest that that thought alone caused him.

Thorin stumbled as he reached the cot, falling to his knees beside him. He shakily reached a hand forward and gently touched the hobbit's cheek, but recoiled at the coldness of his skin.

He looked up at the Elfking, "Why is he so cold?"

"When life fades, warmth fades."

"Well, put more blankets on him. Keep him warm." Thorin angrily ordered.

"Th-Thorin."

He turned at the small voice and gave a simple quirk of the lips.

"Halfling."

"I...I have a-a name."

"I know."

"I..I-I'm sorry that I-I didn't listen to you. I should've listen-" His words faded into a deep racking cough that shook his tiny frame.

Thorin shushed him and cradled the hobbit's hand in his own, leaning closer to him. "Easy, Bilbo, calm yourself. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I was against you from the very start. If only I had trusted Gandalf, but no, I had to be arrogant and stubborn as all dwarves are most known for. I am truly sorry for all the words I have spoken towards you in anger. I am-"A small, soft finger pressed against his lips stilled him.

"Now who ha-has to be c..calm?" Bilbo wheezed at him, giving him a small crooked smile.

The dwarf smiled and shook his head at him in return.

It wasn't until Bilbo spoke again, but softer this time. "Thorin, why?"

He didn't understand the question until he felt the small fingers brush at his own cheeks. He was crying.

_'Why the tears? Why are you crying for me?'_ That was the unspoken question in Bilbo's eyes.

He reached a hand forward and gently traced his burglar's face. "I have so many things to tell you, but I fear not enough time to tell you, little one."

"C..c-can you do something for me, Thorin?"

"Name it and it is done."

"C..can you hold me, I'm cold."

Thorin turned to Thranduil and only received a nod in response before he exited the tent. He looked to Gandalf and saw pain flooding his eyes and pouring down his cheeks. The wizard nodded to him and followed the elfking outside.

Thorin's eyes settled back on Bilbo and only nodded in assent.

He stood up and removed his cloak before removing his sword belt, and then his boots before pulling the covers back and gently sliding in next to the hobbit facing him. He carefully pushed an arm underneath the hobbit and brought him forward.

The hobbit hummed in response and snuggled as close as his injuries would allow him. Thorin could only close his eyes in happiness to be holding his hobbit again.

'His?'

He looked down at the small figure in his arms and agreed with himself that yes, the hobbit was his. He wanted no other. The joyful realization was short-lived when Bilbo fell into a harsh, hacking cough that brought blood to his lips and reminded him that time was much too short and only getting shorter.

Something inside him urged him to speak, so he did.

"Bilbo Baggins."

At his name, the burglar looked up at him.

"I would renounce all I have reclaimed if it would allow you to live."

Bilbo's eyes widened at his words, "No, oh no. Not for me."

Thorin nodded in assent, "Yes, for you. There is more good in you than I have ever seen in others. A good deal of courage and wisdom, blended in measure. If more people valued food and merry-making, like you, over hoarded gold, then this world would be much better off."

Bilbo swallowed a sob, "But sad or merry, my king, I must leave it now."

He nodded slowly, tears falling from his eyes again. "I know, but allow me one last word."

The hobbit could only shake as Thorin leaned his forehead against Bilbo's.

"I love you, Bilbo Baggins." Before he closed the gap between their lips and kissed him ever so gently and then pulled back.

A strangled sob tore from Bilbo's throat as he whispered, "A..and I-I love you, Thorin Oakenshield."

One set of hands clasped together and held fast against each others hearts as Thorin pulled him closer and pressed their lips together gently again and again.

His lips did not leave Bilbo's until his breathing slowed. His hand dropped, slipping from Thorin's grasp...

And fell lifeless to the bed.

All that could be heard at that moment was the heart-wrenching sobbing of a king who lost a love he had just found mere moments ago.

**A.N: *bawling like a baby* Yes, I know...I'm horrible. I started thinking what would happen if Bilbo was the one to die in the end, instead of Thorin. And also what if Thorin didn't know he was in love with Bilbo until those last few moments...*bawls again***

**I might make this a 2-shot, maybe the next part where he is taking Bilbo's body back to the Shire? **


End file.
